


A Little Kindness

by Featherlight_Stories



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Healing, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Trust, learning to love again
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-05-02
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13709211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Featherlight_Stories/pseuds/Featherlight_Stories
Summary: OC's old emotions and fears from past experiences begin resurfacing when she is assigned Tom Hiddleston at her job as an actor riding coach. Her head tells her to run, but her heart says otherwise. Over time, she learns how to continue healing through Tom, who is set on helping her reclaim her sexuality and power. Future smut! REVISED





	1. Chapter 1

“Heels down.” I reminded Tom, yet again, as he rode the horse around on me on a lead line. He nodded, frowning slightly, and readjusted his posture. The bay horse he rode, who was one of the few that could match the length of Tom’s legs, moved at a gentle and smooth jog despite his rider who slouched like a bag of grain. We only had eight weeks before they started filming and Tom needed to be an advanced rider. Or at least look like it.

“Where are your hands, Tom?” I asked. He was subconsciously reaching for the pommel of the saddle again. It was natural, yes, but we didn’t have time for natural. I was honestly little surprised that he lacked so much skill, despite movies like War Horse. I had my work cut out for me.

“Sorry,” He answered, a little breathless from the horse’s jog, “It’s just a little disconcerting to not have anything to hold onto.” I hadn’t yet allowed him reins or anything at all to hold onto. He needed to learn to balance and keep his hands still without gripping onto something.

“Oh I know,” I answer, smiling through my irritation, “I started out this way, too. And heels down, Thomas.”

I spent a little more time drilling him on posture before bring the horse to a halt. Tom dismounted and pulled off his helmet, revealing his damp and curly hair. We had been training for at least 3 hours now. My poor gelding was sweaty and tired too.

I gathered up the lead line in large loops and handed it to Tom,

“I’ll trade you for the brain bucket,” I said, reaching out his helmet, “You can lead us on out.” Tom smiled at me, his blue eyes glinting despite the grueling workout I had just put him through. He fumbled a little with the lead line. But he eventually righted himself and we headed out of the indoor arena, my horse ambling along at Tom’s shoulder.

“Is every lesson going to be this….intense?” he asked as he tied the horse to his stall. I peered over the horse’s back to raised my eyebrows at him and nod, “I’m afraid so. We need to get you in shape for all this riding. You’ll have thunder thighs by the time you start filming the riding portions!”

“I don’t think I have ever been so sore in just one week.” He said with a chuckle, “In  _ any _ of my training.”

“You haven’t felt anything yet,” I promised with a grunt as I lifted the saddle from my horse’s back.

“Here, let me take that.” Tom offered suddenly, walking around the horse and reaching for me. It was too late for me to protest, so I let him take the saddle from me, our hands and arms brushing each other. My breath caught in my throat. I prayed that he wouldn’t notice. But his polite eye contact insinuated that he probably did.

We chattered for a little while longer, grooming the horse and then eventually closing him in his stall, just as the rain began to fall. I groaned as I watch the downpour; I was going to have brave the rain to bring the horses in from the pastures. Tom offered to help. He and I spent nearly 15 minutes jogging back and forth between the wet pastures and the safety of the barn, each with 2 horses at our shoulders. I had somehow been convinced to laugh as the rain began to come down harder. Once we were finished, all the horses secure in the warm and thankfully dry barn, and Tom and I were soaked to the bone. But he was leaving soon.

_ Lucky him, _ I grumbled to myself as I hunted down a left-behind jacket. At least I had something on that was dry.

And as Tom gathered his coat, I gathered my pitchfork and wheelbarrow. He paused for a moment, staring, and asked,

“You’re not leaving?”

I shook my head, “My turn to clean stalls this week.”

“You’ve spent 3 hours coaching me, and however long you spent riding this morning and training, and you’re still going to stay here to clean up horse manure? Not to mention we just spent a considerable amount of time out in the rain and mud.” His eyebrows were raised as he stopped zipping up his jacket.

_ Yes, I am tougher than you. I know your legs are shaking and you’re sore and I’m  _ still _ working. _ I thought triumphantly. Instead, I shrugged, “That’s my job.”

“I’d be happy to help.”

Instant irritation. But I nonchalantly waved his offer away, “Nah. You’ve had a long day, I’m used to this.”

“What if I insist?”

God, he was always so nice. What was he playing at? What was his end game? Tom was always so cool and composed and always quick with a disarming smile and it just made it so goddamn hard to read him. It was incredibly confusing.

“That would be nice of you, but I am sure that you have other things you need to get to. I wouldn’t want you to feel like you need to do this.”

Tom had this air about him that put everyone at ease. One of my infamously stoic coworkers even unbent enough to share a joke with him. Even the rude barn cat would wind himself around Tom’s ankles, purring and drooling. In just one week of lessons, the whole barn was bending over backward for him.

And I was not thrilled. I felt like I had been abandoned by my friends and coworkers.

So, no, I really didn’t want to be alone with him. Just the two of us during lessons was fine; he had a lot to focus on other than me, and I would be in an authoritative position. But being alone put us on equal footing and I much prefer having the upper hand. 

So instead I cheerfully shooed Tom out of the barn. But I couldn’t help but notice that he looked over his shoulder at me as he walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

 I woke up in a cold sweat. My chest heaved as I struggled to throw off the blankets, trying to find some way to breathe in between the sobs. I shot out of bed, lightheaded and stumbling as I tried to get myself moving and out of my room. My stomach threatened to heave. I lurched into the bathroom and realized I wasn’t going to make it to the toilet. I leaned heavily over the sink and vomited. It didn’t take long to empty the contents from my stomach. 

After a little while, the heaving slowed and after a moment, finally stopped. And then I just leaned on the sink and cried.

Eventually, my breathing slowed and I scrubbed my eyes with my knuckles. I slowly came back to myself, separating reality from the nightmare. But nausea remained. It had been a while since I had experienced a nightmare like this. I flipped the lights on and snapped my eyes shut as the light stung them. I sniffled and reached around blindly for the toothpaste, barely squinting one eye open. 

I knew I couldn’t hide away from the nightmare. I needed to pick it apart now before I left it to fester. So I walked out in the kitchen, not even feeling the night chill, and began to make myself some tea.

Tom. I filled the electric tea kettle and turned it on. Tom had been in it. I could only catch glimpses of him, but I knew he was there. He was the one I had been trapped under, forced down into the mattress with his fingers entangled with mine. I was spread out underneath him, open and vulnerable. I was frightened but couldn't push him away. I cried out from the fear and eventually, from my climax. 

I selected a mug and a tea bag, adding in ridiculous amounts of sugar. And milk. Eventually, the water boiled and I added that too.

The nightmare was as confusing as it was painful. But I forced myself to begin rationalizing it, finding the root and then the solution. I had only recently begun rediscovering my sexuality. I wanted to remember what it was like to be a woman who was powerful and secure. Tom ended up in the nightmare because...I was drawn to him. I desired him.

My stomach rolled at the revelation. Desire was dangerous, both in myself and in others. It had been a long time since I faced my own human needs and wants. Tom was bringing them up to the surface. 

The force in the nightmare was both a reminder and a warning.

_ Change the ending, _ I reminded myself,  _ that’s how you can get your peace back for tonight.  _  I focused on the two of us cuddling in bed, with warm sheets and the smell of his skin. I imagined his sweet, easy smile. I focused hard on it.

I heaved a sigh and then took another sip of my tea. Part of me was glad that I was healing enough to feel both romantic and sexual attraction. But the cold dark fear was still there.

 

When morning finally came, I had raccoon eyes from my absent sleep. But I still had work to do and I wasn’t about to call in sick. So I gathered my courage and forced myself to take one step after another. The sun had just begun to glow above the tree line when I locked my front door. Even the crickets were still chirping. For a moment, everything was peaceful. The air was crisp and sweet, and all was still and quiet. But as I climbed into my truck, I felt anything but peaceful.

As I drove through the countryside, my thoughts ran ahead to the stables. Today was Sunday, so it would just be myself and Tom until Jacob came in for the evening feed. I tried to ignore how my stomach rolled with anxiety. I was still confused and hurting about Tom. Still confused about my own revelations. The nightmare was still hanging around my head like a haze.

I gazed out at the passing grasslands that were spotted with small groves of trees. Why did this have to be so difficult? I rested my elbow on the arm of the truck door and leaned my cheek against my knuckles as I drove. How would I be comfortable around him now? And how could I even trust my feelings?

I continued to mull over my thoughts when I arrived at the barn. They rumbled around my head even when I collected the horses and tossed hay into stalls. I did everything to keep my body busy while my mind spun uselessly. I took the time to sweep the alleyway, even clean the mirrors in the indoor arena.

Finally left without any more chores, I leaned over the stall door of my favorite horse, Danny. He was a handsome black gelding that looked suspiciously like the fictional Black Beauty. White star and all.

“Why Danny? Why am I so weird about this?” his sleek ear flickered back in my direction to catch my words. But as all horses do when presented with even the last little bits of food, he didn’t acknowledge anything past his nose.

“Good morning!”

I jumped at the cheerful call. Tom grinned widely, delighted at having caught me unaware. He wore a handsome grey pea coat with the collar turned up against the morning chill. It did wonders for the color of his eyes. 

I struggled to clear my throat, and then looked him full in the face.

“This is for you,” he said, offering me one of the coffee cups in his hand. There was still an amused glint in his eye. I reached for it, “Thank you, that’s very kind—“ our fingers brushed suddenly and I jerked my hand back, letting the coffee fall.

“Shit Tom, I’m  so sorry.” I said hurriedly, feeling my face burn as I bent down to grab the paper cup, “I’m so sorry. I don’t have much of a brain today.” When I stood up, he had a very pained look on his face, confusion, and concern all mixed into one. I tried to find anything to look at besides him.

“Have I...done anything to upset you?” he asked slowly, turning his cup in his hands. I frowned at him, meeting his eyes, 

“No, not at all. I just…haven’t been myself the last few days, that’s all.” Tom licked his lips nervously, and then he too frowned, 

“I ask because I feel fairly unwelcome when you’re around or when we’re working together.”

I was surprised at just how much that stung. I wasn’t sure what to tell him. The truth wasn’t a good idea. I began slowly, picking my words with care,

“Tom, I’m really quite sorry you feel that way. That  _ I  _ made you feel that way.” I forced myself to meet his eyes, “That was never my intention. I’m a very….” I sighed painfully, “I’m a very uptight person, Tom. I keep myself to myself. You, however, have a personality that makes me want to relax and….share. I’m not sure what to do about that. It's unsettling.”

Tom’s eyebrows were raised. He smiled slowly, hesitantly, “I wasn’t quite expecting that.”

I arched an eyebrow and shrugged, 

“It’s the truth.”  _ Kind of. _

“Would you like to go for coffee after our lesson, to get to know each other more? So we’re both on the same page and comfortable with each other? If you’re up for that?” he asked, smiling a bit wider.

_ No. _

“Yes. That sounds lovely. We’re going to be spending a lot of time together anyway.” I tried not to beam at him, but he didn’t bother trying to smother his own enthusiasm.

“Excellent. So, what kind of torture are you putting me through today?”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

After the lesson, Tom and I took his sports car to go find coffee. Mud, sweat, and all, we were sure to get personal space while at the coffee shop. We ended up going to local one that was near the filming studio. Most of the actors frequented it because of how close it was, so the employees knew how to handle celebrities and keep the atmosphere comfortable. 

So when we arrived, the most Tom got was a lovesick sigh from a gentleman behind the counter. Otherwise, the staff just gave us looks of general discomfort about the mud we were tracking in. We ordered separately, keeping up small talk while we waited. 

“Do you mind if we sit a little farther back away from the window?” Tom asked as we finally gathered our treasures: sandwiches, a ridiculously sweet mocha for him and a caramel frap with a shot for me, “I don’t want a fan to spot me and interrupt us.” His smile was apologetic but still cheerful. 

“That’s no problem.” I gestured to a seat tucked next to some tall fake plants, and we strode towards it. I was constantly encountering the problem that arose from the differences in our strides. I nearly had to powerwalk to keep up with him.

I settled in with my back towards the front of the shop and wrapped my hands around my slightly too warm drink. Tom lifted his to his mouth and took quiet sips. Our eyes scanned anywhere but each other. It felt a little awkward for a moment, neither of us knowing where to start.

“So, is there anything, in particular, you’d like to know about me?” I asked, immediately feeling stupid for not asking or saying something a tad brighter. But Tom smiled,

“What about my comfortable personality makes you so uncomfortable? It’s a bit of an oxymoron.”

I snorted a laugh, “Well, you’re not wrong. I just….am better known for my stoic approach to teaching. It’s my version of professionalism and you kinda make me want to throw it out the window. I want to be friendly, but I also have to be relentless and push you hard during lessons to get you ready.”

“That makes complete sense. But what if I tell you that I understand why you have to be so merciless and I don’t hold it against you?” there was laughter in his voice and a gleam in his eye that made me want to joke and tease him.

“Well, I appreciate it. I suppose I’d rather be less stuck up,” I said, turning my cup slowly with one hand and then I arched an eyebrow at him, “But only if you can handle the torture I dish out. I’m under a lot of pressure to make sure you’re ready AND make you look good.” 

Tom blinked and leaned back in his chair,

“Pressure? Can I ask why?”

I flashed a half grin, half grimace at him and said, “You’re actually my first client. I’ve been training here for two years and interned while I was in college before they hired me. If I want to prove that I have a place here, it’s paramount that my instruction molds you into the best rider you can be.” I looked up and met his beautiful eyes, “So I have to be hard on you first and figure out the best teaching method second. Do you see what I mean? I have to teach you in eight weeks what I learned in years.” 

“I’ll do the best I can,” Tom said immediately and resolutely. I smiled,

“I know. I’ve already seen how hard you work. How are your thighs and your back feeling, by the way?”

Tom just groaned.

“Eat that sandwich.” I said, laughing, “And find a banana. The protein in the ham sandwich and the potassium in the banana will help with the soreness.”

“Only if you eat yours. They both look like sorry excuses for anything edible, but misery loves company.” 

“If it keeps you happy, sure.” I say unwrapping mine, “And I do to torture you professionally, so I suppose I owe it to you.” He laughed and unwrapped his, and then held it up like a toast.

“To soggy sandwiches and sore thighs,” he intoned and we tapped our sandwiches together like glasses of chardonnay. 

Eating the sandwiches, as it turned out, was a very bad idea. Apparently, Tom’s ham was a bit older than my turkey and he became increasingly sick as we talked for the next hour. Finally, I convinced him we needed to leave and get to him to his set trailer.

“Tom, Tom go to your trailer.” I said nearly dragging him as we got to his car, “I can call a taxi.”

“But—“ he started with one hand on the door handle. And then he promptly doubled over and vomited.

“Oh Tom,” I said, immediately stepping up to him. I rubbed his back as he heaved, “Easy does it. Just let it out, there’s no point in keeping in what is determined to come out.” It took him a few more heaves before his stomach was satisfied and he could stand upright again.

“I’m so sorry,” he said weakly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, eyes not meeting mine. My heart went out to him.

“Oh sweetheart, don’t be. I’ve coached kids before and there is always someone who gets sick. I’m totally used to it.” He finally glanced at me, his face was pale and dewy with sweat and he looked a little wobbly on his feet.

“We’re calling a cab.” I decided, “I can’t drive this thing, and you certainly shouldn’t.”

I knew he was getting sicker because he didn’t even argue about leaving his expensive car in a coffee shop parking lot.

We eventually made it to the studio location, Tom having to give his ID to the gate security before we could get in. The guard looked ready to just wave us in as Tom began to dry heave again.

“Almost there, sweetheart.” I said, rubbing his back again, “Where are your trailer keys?” He fished them from his pocket and gave them to me with a clammy hand. The taxi driver was quick to get through the crowd of workers and rush us to the trailer, thanks to the threat of Tom’s heaving. I paid the driver and then helped a staggering Tom to his door as he leaned heavily on my shoulder. I had to practically shove him up the trailer steps.

As soon as we were inside, he made a beeline for the bathroom. He didn’t even have time to close the door as he vomited again. I knelt beside him, running a hand through his hair, whispering softly that everything was going to be okay. His head was beginning to feel warm to the touch. 

“I think you may have a case of food poisoning,” I said, gently handing him a wet washcloth from the sink. He wiped his mouth and nodded tiredly.  

“Let’s get you into bed,” I said, pulling gently on his arms. 

“Okay,” he said weakly and began to rise from the toilet. But the dizziness overtook him and he slumped into me, leaning all his weight onto my upper body as I struggled to hold him upright.

“Tom? Tom?” I gasped out as I tried to hold him up, “Tom, sweety, are you gonna pass out?”

He moaned and then again tried to straighten up. Now I was worried,

“Tom is there anyone who can spend the night to keep an eye on you?”

His eyes were unfocused and he was clearly exhausted. He shook his head and mumbled, 

“Just you.”  

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Constructive criticism is always welcome!


End file.
